


Rebel Ink

by Ivyzord



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Punk, Concerts, Drinking, Flirting, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Punk, Superstar Cop, Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivyzord/pseuds/Ivyzord
Summary: An AU Where Harry plays bass in a punk band and Kim is reporter (with a rebellious streak), that interviews them. A lot of background characters from the game. Mostly just fun.Harry is actually Some kind of Superstar.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois & Kim Kitsuragi, Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi
Comments: 42
Kudos: 51





	1. First Draft

He’s carefully studying the freshly printed press pass he didn’t expect to hold today, or anytime soon, for that matter. People didn’t always get his name right, so it was a good idea to check. Kim Kitsuragi wanted to be a journalist to change things.  To discover plots of corruption, to bring justice to people mistreated by the system, cover stories, that carry real importance, that change minds. If it had to begin with writing for the little entertainment column for Jamrock’s Shuffle Gazette, so be it. He is nothing, if not patient and determined. It was his first real assignment after months of proofreading, copying, writing horoscopes and bringing people coffee. He would never complain out loud, but he had enough of carrying the dammed coffee.

He traces, in his head, how the pass got into his possession this evening.  It was already late, the office was almost shutting down when chief editor Pryce entered the room. Alert and fast despite exhaustion He sighed deeply, both hands massaging his forehead.

“So… apparently Heidelstam is still violently sick, from our ‘Street Food of Jamrock’ story. He was suppose to cover a concert tonight, for the entertainment section. Some infamous punk sensation.” He waves one hand dismissively, the other one pressing against his temple. “We have no filler for Sunday, goddammit, so if any of you...” He looks around an almost empty room. “...have ideas, please, do not hesitate to share.” When no one immediately jumped at the opportunity he added: “Unless it involves gobbling up more of foul mystery goop from the unregulated dive bars and horrid food stalls around here, than well… than keep it to yourselves.”

Kim stepped forward. “Excuse me, sir? The editor pointed to him, coaxing him to speak. “This... concert is today, right? I think I can still do it.”

He hoped others would see his volunteering, as something normal, consistent with his character.  He was just someone, who was willing to work hard to get ahead. There didn’t have to be anything more to it. No one had to know, that he used to listen to punk, when he was a teen going through a rebellious phase. They didn’t have to know he still had some albums, that he would blast, in his old rusting motor carriage on his way back after a particularly bad day at work, or that he already heard a bit about the band and the concert, while listening to Rebel FM. The idea of letting off some steam at the end of a stressful week wasn’t unwelcome. It’s been a few years since he allowed himself such a levity.

Chief editor Pryce studied him for a second, than decided. “Well, it’s an idea, alright... Yeah, that can work! Kitsuragi, right? Well, thank you.” The tension leaving his body was almost visible. “We need some commentary and an interview. You’ll manage? Eh, you’ll manage…” He was satisfied to have passed down the problem.  “What you won’t get, we’ll improvise.  Just write something half-decent, by tomorrow and I’ll be happy. Judith, please, print the man a press pass.  Oh, Trent might have some notes on his desk, you have my permission, to go through it, knock yourself out.” He looks at a wall clock. “Sorry to say it, kid, but it seems you have about two hours, to get there.”

Notes at Trant’s desk where meager at best. He took most of his work home, most likely. All that's left is just some rudimentary info on the band. A controversial Ravasholian 4-piece group, ‘No Truce With The Furies’. Among the notes, he could only figure out a few vague questions. That’s disheartening. Part of Kim’s confidence usually derives from how well prepared he is. This is not a comfortable situation. His colleague, Judith dropped of his pass, wished him good luck, with sincerity, not often found in this place.

After making sure, that the pass is printed correctly, he looks at his electronic wristwatch.  No much time left, he’ll have to improvise.  He is alone in the room, so he doesn't suppress an unhappy grimace at the thought.

Unfortunately, Trent and, more importantly, his notes are at his home, almost an hour away from the editorial office, the opposite way to the venue. At least, Kim’s house is on the way to the concert, so it won’t take too long to freshen up a bit, grab a notebook and his camera, and get changed. He sheds his hated professional blazer and switches his shirt, to a black one, hoping it will be enough, to look not completely out of place. The rest stays as is. He is too old to try that hard to fit in. He’s unwilling to leave without his favorite orange bomber jacket.  After all it has all these useful pockets, for all this important things he has to take with him.

As Kim enters through heavy metal door and descends to the basement a familiar scent of stale beer, smoke and human sweat hits him. It’s not exactly pleasant, but it is heavy with nostalgia. He have never been here before exactly but he frequented clubs very much like it. He had a hard time imagining Trant in this place. All formal and soft-spoken, but then again, how many of his colleagues would think similarly about him? He is unhappy with himself at the thought. He usually doesn't profile people like that. The bouncer did look at him with pity, as he shown him a press pass. Speaking of which, he hides it deep in his jacket pocket. It’s just so devastatingly uncool to wear at a show. He doesn't need more people to assume he is here unwillingly.

The badly ventilated basement has little in ways of straightforward charm, but a lot of character. It’s full of nooks and crannies. Brick walls covered by writing, new posters atop of old ones. Overall, it’s a bit of a dive. His boots seem to stick to the floor in places, as he makes his way to the bar. He orders a beer from a snarky looking bartender with a patchy beard. Little professional voice in Kim's head reprimands him for drinking on a job, but he shuts it up. One drink won't impair his thinking, and it is crucial to look natural, while looking for information, he justifies himself. The beer tastes cheap and watered down, as expected.

To his relief there venue isn’t filled exclusively with teenagers. There seem to be other people in their twenties or older. There is a guy close by, similar to him in age, maybe a bit older. He holds a beer and strokes his impressive muttonchops thoughtfully, engaging in a conversation with some young excited crowd. The moment he is turned away from the bar Kim notices there's something written on the back of his black leather jacket. Kim squints, behind his glasses trying to read it. “Fuck the World!” A simple statement, probably typical for a place like this. It makes him smirk and momentary miss that the jacket’s owner noticed his staring and is looking at him from over his shoulder.  He turns around, approaches and gives him a once-over in return, with a wide, wild smile. Kim suddenly feels self-conscious. He’s sure the stranger is about to get angry or make fun of him, but instead he asks:

“Admiring the style, huh?” The sound that comes out of him is deep and raspy and it makes Kim suppress a chill running down his spine.  “Well, I like yours.” Despite the lack of expected mockery in his voice, Kim is incredulous.  He looks around then back at the strange man.  He raises an eyebrow.

“Do you, now?”

“Yeah, I do.” He says with conviction, and sits, on a bar stool next to him. ”You know, some of those kids...” He gestures with his hand around the slowly filling venue “...try so hard to look right. You know... bad ass, sexy, dangerous... but I like you more.” His smile widens dangerously. “You’re just so effortlessly cool.”

He was bracing himself for a myriad of unpleasant scenarios, not excluding a fight, but he wasn’t ready for a complement.  One that seem tailored to him, at that. 

Just for a second or two he finds himself staring at the tips of his boots than back at the man in disbelief.  It’s a good thing he is not prone to blushing.

"Eh... mmm, thank you.” He says, collecting himself, trying to regain face and take a lead on this weird conversation. Maybe he can also try to get some information about the band for the later interview. “So, um, you here for the band? Are they any good?”

The mysterious stranger narrows his eyes, and studies Kim's expression for a bit, before answering.  “I’m not sure.” He says very slowly.  “I’m here mostly for the beer.” He accents the sentence by downing the half-full glass he’s been holding.

There’s something weird going on here but Kim feels like he has not enough data to understand what exactly.  His journalistic instincts are screaming something incoherently.  He’s unable to focus. It has almost nothing to do with the man before him, sending him a clumsy, flirtatious glance, as he wipes beer foam from his mustache with his thumb.

Kim still tries to come to terms with the fact, that the stranger might be openly flirting with him.  They are not it that kind of bar and they didn’t spent a better part of an hour circling around the topic awkwardly, as was customary.  He find’s it surprisingly refreshing.  He didn’t even realized that he was getting tired of the song and dance, of finding out if the other man might also be gay.  It’s not like it’s still illegal, but it’s not without it’s risks.  He can’t help but to feel some respect and jealousy toward this cocky guy, who just ordered another beer, and lazily waved his hand in greeting.

“I’m Harry, by the way. Would you let me buy you a beer?”

“...um, Kim, and…” He looks at his almost full glass, gestures to it with his hand to make a point.

“Ok, right.” He scratches the back of his head. First time his overconfident persona drops for a moment.  “… then, the next one is on me. So, you're here on your own? Do you think we could-”

His sentence is halted by a sharp whistle.  As they turn their heads to see the source of the sound, a woman near the stage is looking their way impatiently, tapping her foot.

“Shit… Lilienne.” Harry mutters, then, without much struggle, downs his second beer in one go and stands up addressing Kim: “Excuse me, it seems my friends need me.” He winks performing a little mock bow, and turns around.

 _What was that all about_ Kim tries to make sens of the brief conversation. _Is she his girlfriend or…_

He is looking in their direction, as they exchange a few words, pass the bouncer, then head backstage. _Oh... Oh!_ _Oh Shit…_


	2. Take a note.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meet the Band! The music plays. The music ends. Kim and Harry have an... interesting conversation. The group's manager also makes an entrance.

The warm-up act is some shitty local band... correction… The shitty local band.

Kim remembers them from when he was still a regular to those shows but the ’Dynamic Duo’ of Torson and McLane didn’t get any better, despite the passage of time.  Kim doesn't have to feel like he’s missing anything as he gathers info for his interview, disguising his interrogation as small talk.  He learns that the band, indeed, has a member named Harry and he loves his iconic “Fuck the World” jacket.  A hope that the man he have met might have been some technician dies with the tiniest inaudible scream.

By the time he hears enough to form a few almost decent questions, the duo finally finishes and the small room is semi-field with people.  Kim takes a place by the wall, near the stage.  He recognizes it as a relatively secure space.  He wouldn’t risk having his camera crashed.  Besides, this is how he likes it, he’d rather watch and listen, then get into the crowd.  Also, he might be less noticeable to one smug musician.

The band starts to take their positions on stage.  They are not flashy or big enough yet for some big staged entrance, so the crowd watches, a bit awkwardly, as they plug in and tune their equipment.  Harry goes out the backroom not wearing his signature jacket, or a shirt, for that matter.  Just a pair of ripped jeans. He looks exactly like a man, that Kim wouldn’t want to admit he is attracted to.  Tall, a bit disheveled, muscular chest hidden under a carpet of hair.  Kim can’t help but notice the girth of his biceps, as Harry attaches snakeskin strap to the green bass guitar, that looks natural in his grip.  To stop from imagining himself in those big hands, he looks over the other members of the band.

A slender, lithe man in unbuttoned purple shirt and tight black pants holding a guitar enters the stage smoking with almost impossible nonchalance and two girls next to Kim start to squeal in admiration.  They shout in his direction, calling him ‘Smoker’, and he sends them a nod and a dashing smile.  A calculated gesture, with no real interest behind it.

The other guitarist is the woman who he have already seen before, Lilienne.  She has fishnet stockings and fishhooks in her ears.  She looks cool, distinctive, pretty but there's something tough hiding behind her heavily painted eyes. By the way she moves it is clear she possesses a certain command over the rest of them.

Setting himself by the drums is someone that Kim is tempted to call a ginger gremlin, a kid not old enough to be (legally) sold beer here.  He can’t be older than 15. The boy plays with his drumsticks and gives his drum kit an obnoxiously loud and absolutely unnecessary test, showing off and grinning like a mad man on speed.

When they are all set Harry searches the audience with his eyes, to finally locate Kim. Lilienne signals the technician to change the light, and right before the room goes dim the smug bastard sends him another wink. _Shit._ Kim tries not to think about the coming interview.

The thin man’s aloof demeanor slightly changes in the half-light and he screams: “You know who we are, our name is on the poster!” Stage lights illuminate them them and the noise unceremoniously starts.  By the crowd reaction, it’s one of the hits.  It’s rough and fast and everything Kim didn't even know he needed. He leans back on the wall with unexpected relief.  When the music is suddenly joined by a rough booming vocals, he looks at Harry, surprised. He was so sure, that the other man is the singer, that he didn’t even notice that microphones are set in front of both of them.  The smoker joins him and the sound of their combined voices creates a harmonious cacophony. The lyrics are usual, filled with vaguely violent imagery, sex and partying. To his surprise it turns out to be the only song with such a straightforward message.

The next one is an equally vicious and sorrowful song about someone's ex. It sounds a bit like a blasphemous hymn.

Yet another is about a stuffed Ruffled Grouse, for some reason...

Than, an uncharacteristically slow and sad one about a church.  Kim takes the opportunity of a calmer moment to take a few pictures.

Another song is about a traffic Jam on a roundabout, as a metaphor of being stuck in life.

Kim tries not to listen too closely to the lyrics of the next one.  He looks around in hidden shock at people, who are jumping, crashing into each other as the vocalists sing about the pale. The concept is so out of his grasp, that he will never stop being horrified by it. It feels somehow fitting but also highly disturbing to look at careless teenagers eagerly partying at the concept of world being swallowed by darkness.

Next is an absolute mood switch.  A dirty song about all types of sexual acts.  Kim doesn't think much of it, until it comes to they chorus.

_So let’s come together_

_And than come again_

_Some girls like leather_

_Some men like men_

As silly as this song actually sounds, at that moment Kim's focus is on the bassist.  He could swear that at that last verse Harry was looking straight at him, right into his eyes.  It’s a feeling you sometimes get during concerts or plays but he is standing so much to the side that it hardly feels like a coincidence. He tries to tell himself that his fastened heartbeat, on the other hand, is coincidental.

What the band plays for an encore is a song that just wrenches Kim’s heart.  It starts fast with a happy enough catchy verse.  The two man singing the lines in turns.

_ Postpone your sorrow _

_ For tomorrow _

_ Leave all your fear _

_ Down the glass of beer _

_ Thing are getting frisky _

_ Have a shot of whiskey _

_ No more given fucks _

_ Have a vodka on the rocks _

Then it suddenly gets more quiet and slows down and their voice intertwine in a short wailing chorus.

_The pain will hit you twice as hard._

_It will split your head and brake your heart._

It immediately switches to the faster pace, as if what the crowd just heard was only an echo, but it lingers with Kim.  The way Harry growls his heart out shakes him to his very core, although hardly anyone would ever notice.

The last sounds die out and like that, the show is over.

* * *

Kim takes a few breaths as the crowd disperses and he heads toward the stage, putting on his press pass over his head and showing it to the bouncer.  On the stage Harry is talking to the gremlin, who is dissembling his drums and rolling his eyes at something.  They are the only ones there at that moment.  Harry is leaning on a speaker, his Jacket carelessly draped over his shoulders.  As he notices Kim approaching his face lights up.

“Hey, you! How did you got pass Titus?  I mean, I don’t mind, but-” He stops suddenly, his eyes drawn to the laminated document hanging from his neck.  He studies it quickly and murmurs to himself.  “Uh-huh.” His relaxed position slowly becoming more rigid.

“I’m here for the interview.” Kim says trying to sound serious, matter-of-factly but not antagonistic, hands clasped behind his back.

The kid, an excited little shark smelling blood, jumps to Harry's side with a gleam in his eyes.

“Hey man, this bino giving you trouble?!” The kid tries to sound serious but his voice is high pitched and shrill.

“What? No, its fine.” He makes a face, as if he just noticed something.  “Don't call people that… and get the rest here.” He focuses his sight squarely on Kim.

The kid glances a few time between them both.  “Yo, Fuckers! you gonna fight or fuck, or what?”

“That’s none of your business, Cuno.  Shut it and get the band here.” Harry says, his tone low, his eyes not leaving Kim for a moment.

The gremlin scoffs. “Whatever, you crazy homo…” He pats him on the back and leaves, muttering under his breath. “I just wouldn’t want to miss a fight.”

“So…” Harry pays the kid no mind, He’s still laser focused on Kim. “Was was that before? Some kind of a ploy?”

Kim looks at him, dumbfounded and repeats: “Ploy?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Yes… a ploy, a ruse, a way to get me off balance and make me fess up some juicy gossip.  I don’t know... Maybe write some outrageous article about that time the wicked Harrier Du Bois tried to tempt an innocent journalist into his debauched lifestyle.”

“That’s… a bit far-fetched. You started talking to me.”

Harry's eyes get comically narrow.  “I don’t know…” His tone turns a little bit more playful. “Maybe your little newspaper made a profile of me and send someone I would find irresistible.”

Kim looks at him, blinking rapidly in confusion, trying to keep a neutral expression but he feels that he is not able to hold a hint of a smile.

Satisfied, Harry relaxes his eyes and posture, leans back on the speaker.  Taking a mangled pack of Astras from his back pocket, he continues.  “Or maybe not.” He shrugs. “…maybe it’s just wishful thinking on my part.  I just wished that such a cool guy knew who I am.” He picks up a smoke, with his teeth.  “Well, no matter. He does now.” He present’s the pack to Kim. “You smoke?”

But before he can answer, a voice reaches them.  “For fuck’s sake!” It makes Harry jump a little and drop his unlit cigarette.

The voice is closely followed, by a surly looking man in black jeans and blazer leaving the backstage. “Why, the fuck, no one told me, about the interview?!"

Harry immediately tries to calm him down. “Jean, please…”

“No Harry! No, that’s not right!  It’s like you guys forget you have a manager now!” He points his finger directly at Harry. “God, someone has to baby you and make sure you’re not too fucked up… “

Harry is cowering slightly, and glancing apologetically Kim’s way.  Then he looks down, his eyes tracing the floor for the lost smoke.

“Jean, come on... you know it’s not like that anymore.” Despite his deep booming voice he sounds almost whiny.  “...and that’s Kim.” He leans down to pick up the finally located cigarette and puts it behind his ear. “I think, he’s the reporter...”

Jean neck snaps to him like he just noticed they he is even there. He makes an attempt at not looking quite so furious. “Ah yes, well… welcome.” He extend a hand.  “Um, sorry about this... shitshow. “

Kim accepts the brief handshake.  “There’s no problem.” he assures. “The show was actually really good.”

The attempt at humor provokes no real reaction from Jean but Harry is smiling in a way you would at a puppy that just tripped over his own paws.

Kim promptly ignores the silence and assumes a professional manner.  “My name is Kim Kitsuragi, I represent, the Jamrock Shuffle Gazette. I believe my colleague already contacted you about an interview for the feature about your group.”

"Apparently he did... and none of this jackasses where kind or lucid enough to inform me.  "Jean sighs and with a resigned gesture he signals them to follow him backstage. “Ok, let’s get on with it. I’m sure you want this to be over as soon as possible. I know I do...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the song descriptions and lyrics doesn't come of like a bit of overindulgent bullcrap...  
> I do love writing this Harry. Before all had a chance to go to shit. He's still a bit of a mess, but an overconfident one. Now for the interview. I hope I can manage...


	3. Write What You Know

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First the interview. Then something fun, I hope.

Kim finds himself in a little messy room with up-and-coming punk sensation ‘No Truce with The Furies’ and their disgruntled manager.  He wonders why would anyone put a man with, what seems like, obvious anger issues in that position.  After the introduction the smoker, who identified himself only as 'Martin' looks at him wit a challenge in his eyes. It seemed to be a well-practiced look, one he gives people often.“

“Ah, journaliste, you don’t sound like a man I talked to over the phone.”

“I’m sorry about the mix up. Trant Heidelstam is, unfortunately, indisposed. I hope it’s no problem that I’m here in his stead.” Kim says taking a chair Jean has pointed to him.

“Eh, it should be ok. You’re hardly Peripherique anyway.” Harry looks at him, daggers in his eyes. Martin doesn't spare him as much as a glance in return. Jean is about to say something but he’s choking on pure anger and before he can swallow it down for long enough to produce words, Kim aptly takes control over the situation.

He doesn't look up from his notes, at what he deems an obvious provocation, when he answers. “The only way the publication like Peripherique would mention your band right now is as footnote, a part of some article about the degeneracy of youth culture...” His voice is calm and leveled.  “...or if you got into something very illegal, I suppose. Before you say that you would like that kind of attention, trust me it wouldn’t even register to your target demographic.” He finally looks up from his notes straight at the smoker. “Let me level with you. I don’t want to write some fluff piece either. With me here you have the best shot at this being honest and interesting."

Martin sits a while in silence. ”Beautiful.” He shrugs “Alright, journaliste, let’s make it interesting then.”

“Well, aren’t you an ass today.” Lelienne states the fact a bit bitterly.

“Yeah, well, what can you do…? “

At that you could practically see the manager waving away to the last of hope, of making that group look even marginally professional. “Oh, for fucks sake..." He’s pitching the bridge of his nose. “Let’s just get to the questions, please.”

“First of all,” Kim points to the kid with his pen. “Is it ok with you for... Cuno to be here for the interview? I’m afraid I can’t use his name and directly quote whatever he says without his legal guardian's consent. Nor would I want to.”

“The fuck do I care? I just play the drums!” The gremlin is drumming a rhythm with his fingers on the table and rocking on his chair.

Jean says: “The kid will have to be anonymous then. I trust the interview about music won’t get too fucking graphic.”

“Your little gazette to hoity-toity for a little old Cuno?” The gremlin adds.  Something about him rubs Kim the wrong way.

Harry intervenes. “If you are afraid for what the little guy might hear here, don’t worry, He probably heard worse.” It sounds remarkably less comforting then Harry likely intended but Kim gets the meaning.

“He used to say... worse, too” Martin adds, some memory makes his face contort for just a second before returning to it’s usual perfect, smooth, content state. “Let’s get on with the questions.”

Kim is fully in his professional mode, as he goes through the mix of hasty formed and ably improvised questions. They talk about their image, message and song lyrics. He learns That the author of the lyrics is mostly Harry, sometimes Lilienne, but also their friend Tommy. He was their first vocalist, but he started a family and a steady job. He sends them his poetry, and they are free to use any in their songs. Lately they are getting paid real money for the shows and they are, finally, able to pay him back. Cuno beams proudly, as he practically screams, that they are recording their first full album next month.

Despite the tense moment earlier, Kim manages to talk to them with ease, flow of the conversation natural enough. In spite of their earlier conduct, they seem eager to share their story.

Kim asks about the composition of the band before. At the beginning there was Lilienne Harry and Tommy, just teenagers playing in garages. They didn't start to play clubs until they where joined by the drummer, Tiago and Dora on the second guitar.  At that mention Harry suddenly looks uncomfortable.

Lilienne continues, fast and decisive, to quickly finish the subject. Probably as a favor to her friend. “They both left, when things weren't getting better. Tiago got into some weird religious stuff. Dora is in another band now. She saw a better deal, the guys she plays with now where more… financially stable.” Despite the downplayed words there is bitterness in her voice.

The smoker takes over. “The stuck-up harpy left the band before they had any success but I won’t complain. That's how I got here.” He takes a pause, as if to gauge if he should continue. “Too bad she had to put our Harry through such a wringer in the process when she left him as well.”

“Oh, come on! “Harry sits with legs and arms crossed, hands squeezing at the sleeves of his jacket. “We don’t have to talk about that, do we? This is not relevant to anything.”

“Harry, baby, I just had a vague feeling that it might be an interesting tidbit to our journaliste here."

Kim, very deliberately, does not react.

“...you’re an ass, Martin.” Harry restates.

“I believe we established that, yes. By the way, that’s her. ”The smoker gestures toward one of the many posters in the room.  “They play here sometimes.” Everyone except him and Harry look that way.

At first Kim holds back a scoff at the name ‘Death Control Fantasy’, but is unable to stop the next treacherous thought. _Oh no, she’s beautiful_. She was universally gorgeous. That was obvious to him, even considering his lack of interest in women.  Then he tells himself quickly that this is highly irrelevant to his job and anything going on here. He makes an observation, that he is interviewing a group of misfits, everyone doing their own thing and their only connecting characteristic how mismatched they are.  The group on the poster looks like a perfectly manufactured version of that.

Kim skillfully misses all the rhetorical traps and provocations for the rest of the interview. Satisfied with the results as much as he can be in those circumstances, he thanks them, shakes their hands. As he is saying his goodbyes, Martin tries to give him his best apologetic look. It still comes off as a little bit contrived. “Sorry, for being an ass but you did well, journaliste.”

The group start to gather their bearings and when Harry is the only one left in the room silently gathering and folding cables, Kim approaches him and asks. “How about that smoke now?”

Harry smiles in response. “For a moment I thought my… good friends made enough black PR for me that you wouldn't want to talk again.” Kim just shrugs at that.  “One moment.” Harry packs the bass into it’s case, preparing himself to ask a question.  “So… it turns out you where forced to go to our show tonight, huh?” Kim can see it comes as a bit of a blow. “I mean, did you even like it, or was it all torture for you?”

“I hope it is not that unbelievable that I volunteered to be here.” He gives his own clothes a quick appraisal.  “I liked the show, truly. Honestly, it’s been too long.”

“Ha, I had a feeling you where wild at heart.” Despite the conviction of the words, there is a real relief in Harry's voice. He leaves the case on the table, and leads the way out of the building.  "I’m impressed. You’ve handled Martin well. He just... can’t help himself but to mess with people sometimes.“

As Kim follows Harry through narrow, dimly lit corridors, to some alternative exit, he reassures him.  “It wasn’t all that weird. After that performance I expected you to be... I don’t know... wilder?”

Harry turns to him and lowers his brows “You mean the band... or me, specifically?”

Kim lets out a small chuckle. “Both, I guess.”

“Oh, It’s not like we don’t party and go wild at all.” He says, as if he had to justify himself. “But however we looked to you back there, this shit is important to us… It’s important to me.  If it all goes well, this might be our main job soon. Today we had to be presentable, you know, for the interview... Is this look backstage very disappointing?””

“No, not at all.” Kim can always appreciate a professional approach.

“I think we might be partied out a little already. When you’re young, and you play in bars that pay you in beer, it’s very easy to be stupid about it.“

As they step outside he realizes that it’s gotten late and cold. There’s nobody around except the band and their old van near the second entrance. They are far away not to overhear them.  Kim accepts the cigarette and the light offered to him. He closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The nicotine really hits the spot right now. He realizes that Harry is just standing there, frozen, lighter still lit in his hand. Kim looks his way, rising a brow.

“Sorry.” He says waking himself from the trance and he lights his own smoke.  “It’s just… It’s nice to see you relax like this. How do you look so good just doing whatever?”

Kim doesn't feel he looks particularly good. Cool he was more willing to accept, but he won’t argue with the complement. He smiles in response. “You always just say what comes to your mind?”

“Sorry...”

“There’s no reason to be.” This openness is still new to him.  He won’t admit it out loud yet but he likes it. They smoke a while in silence, that already feels more comfortable, than it has any right to. Harry’s raspy voice brakes the calm with a question.

“You... wanna grab some coffee, or something after we’re done packing?”

Kim thinks about it for a moment, looks at his wristwatch. Part of him is a bit disappointed with the answer he’s about to give, but it is the responsible thing to do. “It’s getting late." He sighs. “I really should at least make a draft of the story for tomorrow but thank you.” He really want to communicate that the offer wasn't exactly unwelcome. 

“Well then, we play this concert next Friday, should be interesting.  It’s at an abandoned church in Martinaise. Some kids turned it into a club… Would be cool if you came.”

He exhales a plum of smoke with a snicker, looking to the side. “You are relentless.” He says, smirking.

Harry turns to him, puts his arm against the wall, just next to Kim's head, other hand on his own hip, thumb hooked in a belt loop of his jeans.  “Would you rather, I relented?” It’s something between an obvious come-on and a genuine question.

Kim pretends to not even acknowledge his proximity.  He looks straight at Harry and deliberately takes a deep, long drag of his cigarette, and lets the air out really slowly, not braking the eye-contact as he answers.

“No.”

He finds the way Harry’s shoulders relax at that satisfying.  The guy has been teasing him for a good part of the evening, he deserved that comeback but now a pair of eyes is burning into him with such an intensity that he suspects to be pinned to the wall. He quietly admits, that he probably wouldn’t mind but instead Harry gets very close to him, hand wonders from his own hip, and is now affectionately stroking Kim’s neck.  It’s big, strong and rough, but the gesture is delicate, and it makes Kim feel an almost electric current right underneath the skin.

“You sure?” He asks, and it’s adorable to see the smug, overconfident bastard being so shy and careful.

Hoping that he looks calm and collected, Kim takes a last drag of the cigarette, extinguishes it against the wall behind him and throws it away with the flick. The moment his hands are free, he grabs the lapels of Harry's jacket. He pulls and their combined weight hits the wall. The growl that Harry makes in surprise quickly turns into content murmur as their lips meet. At that the big guy seems assured enough, and returns the kiss in earnest. He tastes of cheep beer and smoke. The big hands, that Kim was actively trying not think about earlier get underneath his open jacket to echo his unstated fantasy. The way Harry traces the lines of his body earn him a stifled moan and-

“Hey, Shitkid!” Jean screams from across the yard. “You to much of a fucking rock star to help with the packing?!”

Harry pulls back from him with an unsatisfied groan, turns a bit to the side and screams back “Give me a moment Jean!” Not listening further to his manager’s angry rumblings, he rest his head on Kim's shoulder, breathing a bit heavily. “Bloody Hell… I knew there was something about you.” He kisses Kim’s neck a few times, delicately, almost lazily, not willing to brake the contact just yet. His facial hair tickles a bit. “I have to go, but...”

“I’ll see you at the concert.” He smiles stroking the hairy cheek.

“Ok, cool guy...” He reluctantly steps back and at that Kim feels a harsh loss of heat.  “I’ll see you there. I still owe you that beer.” He says turning away and he runs towards the band.  When he’s by their van he turns and yells. “If you’re not there, I swear I’ll come to look for you in the office! I know where you work!” and like that, he gets to hauling stuff.

Kim looks at him, hugging himself from the cold, as Harry disappears into the building

_Don’t worry, you nutcase, I’ll be there…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonus points to those who realized that Dora’s bad name is an amalgamation of names of video games that lost to Disco Elysium at VGA. Sorry, it got meta, I had no better idea.  
> For some reason I found it important to put in my notes "Kim still got the authority, baby!"  
> I know smokers name is not really, Martin, but, well, what can you do? I also made him an absolute ass... sorry.  
> Might continue someday. there's an idea, but for now, that's it. It was very light and fun, because the other thing I'm doing is making me sad and I have to balance that a bit.  
> Writing this thing makes me smile. I hope it did that for some of you too!


	4. Working Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I'm kind of continuing this Au. It's a sort of transitional chapter focusing on Kim's work.  
> Harry and the band comes back in the next, along with a festive atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. Good to be back, so the idea how to continue this thing finally clarified.  
> I decided to go for it because of the nice comments I've gotten about the AU, so thank you for that <3

Kim wasn’t supposed to work today but he still has to deliver his surprise assignment. He came early, head still groggy from the lack of sleep. He couldn’t be sure if what he wrote made a lick of sense. The events from last night replay in his mind on a loop. Shit. he was so sure that he was the kind of person, who wouldn’t mix work and personal life. Yet that is exactly what he did his very first interview, enthusiastically so. He should be more disappointed in himself.

He wanted to go straight to Pryces’s office. The first person who crosses his way is unfortunately Gary. The man (Or a poor excuse for one.) always looks uncomfortable with Kim’s presence in the office, if not his very existence. It’s hard not to hate the guy back. Kim left the draft on the desk in front of him and who, if not that nosy prick, picks it up.

“Where you suppose to be at work today?” Whenever he opens his mouth his face just looks more punchable. Despite the urge Kim goes for a viciously polite request.

“Could you, please, put my work down?”

“Your work?” He scoffs. “Who did you spellcheck today? With those glasses it’s a wonder they let you do even that.” Gary wasn’t one of the people who witnessed Kim getting the assignment and it seems no one bothered to inform him. “What is this bullshit?” Kim didn’t feel like explaining and is saved from it by Pryce peeking into the room.

“Kitsuragi. You’re here. Good. Meet me at my office.” Gary looks Kim’s way wide-eyed. Using the momentary confusion Kim grabs the document back throwing the meanest possible “Excuse me.” while leaving and not looking back.

He passed Chief’s secretary with a tired nod. Sometimes Kim thinks that this woman is a sole reason the place haven’t burned down yet.

Kim leaves the documents and a few pictures on Pryce's desk and stand there his hands behind his back until his boss insists he sit down. He skims the papers very briefly.

“First of all I wanted to thank you. You volunteered after already full day of work.” I want to let you know, that however this turned out, I’m grateful.” Kim knows that the intent of this words is friendly enough but he so hates being underestimated. He's holding a response to that comment tightly behind his teeth. “It must have been hell of a first time. How did it go?"

 _First I made a fool of myself because I didn’t recognize my interviewee and than flirted with him the whole evening and than we…_ “I believe it went fine, sir, given the circumstances. I think I managed to get some interesting material.”

“Good, Good. You should probably get some rest after what we put you through. You’re free to go home.” When Kim makes no move to leave Pryce asks him not looking up from his documents “Was there anything else?” he sounds professional, but not impatient.

“I was just wondering… I wanted to see what you think about it... sir.”

Pryce glanced at a pile of papers on his desk, than back at him. “I really think it would be best if you went home, kid. You look like… like you worked overtime, to be honest. If you’re that interested, go grab a coffee or something and I’ll get back to you in an hour or so...”

“Right. Thank you, sir”

Pryce smiles briefly. “No need to thank me kid, now go, I have some things to read.”

Kim leaves with a huge sigh. Alice addresses him. “Hello there, reporter. How are you today? Because you look like...”

“Like shit?… Hi Alice.”

Alice let’s out chuckle. “I was going to say: 'Like you need a smoke' but I’m not going to argue.” Alice didn’t really smoke, but she sometimes pretended to, just to take advantage of the unfair smoke brakes policy and to talk with people. That was the one and only unprofessional habit of hers Kim was aware of. He felt glad she considered him one of those people worthy of this little insubordination.

“That sounds about right, Alice. You’re up for it?”

She let’s the chief know She is taking her brake now as they step outside.

“So, how was it? Your firs work in the real world.”

Kim wonders for a moment how to come up with an answer that is truthful and interesting and not all to revealing. “Well, Alice… it was kind of terrible and kind of amazing.”

“Oh, do go on.”

“I had a very interesting talk with this guy I asked him if he knew the band that was playing. He later turned out to be a bassist and a singer for the band. You know, the band I was about to interview?“

She looks at him in disbelief. “Oh no...”

“’Oh no’ is quite right. Later he accused me of, what he called 'a ploy’ to get him to spell some dark secrets for our little paper.”

“A ploy?” she repeats bemused.

“That’s exactly what I asked him. Yes, Alice ‘a ploy’… and it turned out he was teasing me.” He shakes his head. “Also their drummer is a fouled-mouth literal kid, one guitarist was trying very hard to unsettle me for his own amusement. Also I’m pretty sure their manager has anger issues... Other that that it was fine. The other guitarist was a perfectly nice, level-headed woman…”

“That sound rough, all right.” She looks at him and her smile gives way to a more curious yet a bit teasing expression. “So… Where does the ‘amazing’ part come in?”

What comes to Kim’s mind doesn't seem like a particularly good idea to say out loud. _The way I felt when Harry’s weight pinned me to the wall. His big warm hands on my chest. His tongue against mine. His gruff voice that would drive me crazy instantly if he…_ He realizes he was standing there wordless a bit to long, so he quickly says the first decent thing that came to his head. “I liked the concert.”

“Oh… oh wow.”

“Wow?” He repeats with a hint of a question in his voice.

“Sorry, It was just unexpected, but that’s good. So Kim Kitsuragi likes this kind of thing. Good to know."

He winced a bit at that reaction. He almost would rather tell about his embarrassing little crush. Almost. Ether way, he fells he can trust Alice with this. “Would you, please... not repeat that further?”

She looks at him, probing. “I don’t think that’s anything to be ashamed of but of course Kim, as you wish.”

“Yeah... I also got invited to another concert this weekend.” He smirks under his nose and looks up with more confidence in his voice this time. “I think I’m going.”

* * *

  
It takes another hour of waiting. Kim is trying not to fall asleep at his desk. Also not to hear an unfortunately closely located Gary and his loaded questions. The man either is oblivious to his obnoxiousness or he just simply revels in it.

“Oh, come on, Kimmy! What did the boss want? Are you in trouble?” This finally warrants a dispassionate answer from Kim.

“Yes, Gary I’m in a world of pain I hope that satisfied your curiosity. You can leave me alone now.”

Kim is grateful after Alice finally pops up to call for him. Noticing Gary she adds loudly “I think the boss liked the interview.”

Kim again doesn't look Gary’s way as he leaves, although is tempting. It’s just a bit cooler that way.

The Chief editor welcomes him. "Thank you for the wait."

“It’s no problem, sir. So what do you think about the interview?”

“I'll Say Kitsuragi. No notes, no prep yet you delivered a decent text and showed initiative with some damned good photos. I'm impressed.” A wave of well deserved satisfaction washes over Kim. He starts to say his thanks but the Chief cuts him off. “Now, I hope your curiosity is satisfied. You should probably get home and get some well deserved rest.”

Pryce stands up and shakes his hand “I think we will see you officially added to the writing staff soon. You never asked about the compensation for your work. I think You’ll find the bonus on this month paycheck satisfactory. Now go home and get some sleep, for fuck’s sake, you are barely standing” He gestures towards the door “You’re OK do drive in your state?

“Don’t worry, sir. I could drive in my sleep”

“I’d rather you did it awake. Get some coffee and go.”

* * *

The next week is mostly uneventful, but some small assignments begin to fall into Kim's lap. This feels like an actual move forward, but no matter how good a week he’s having the weekend can’t come quickly enough. Kim doesn't usually find himself looking forward to the weekend with such impatience.

It’s finally Friday and he is looking at a few items of clothing neatly arranged on his bed. What would be a right thing to wear to something like this. It's true that he have been to more then a few concerts in his time but this... this sounds like something different. He managed to get from depths of his closet a few ratty t-shirts with band names that would be maybe considered classic. Destroyed in a way that might still be cool today. He looks at them unsure if, despite his unseemly young visage it will make him looks like an old guy trying to fit in with the teens. He is not willing to risk it. _Harry did like me dressed casually, just as I was_. And he audibly groans, deeply disappointed in himself, massaging the bridge of his nose with his fingers. _Get a hold of yourself Kitsuragi_. Acting like an unsure 16-year-old, playing dress up, considering if a guy would like his outfit. Shit, he’s got it bad. It doesn't feel like him. He wasn’t like that even as a teenager. He’ll most definitely won’t spend any more time choosing clothes. He angrily puts on a simple black t-shirt. Although... it wouldn’t hurt to see if the jeans still fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is not the most popular thing but I appreciate that you still like it and I really needed something on a lighter side.  
> Also I might me missing concerts and festivals and the next chapter will have that and even more Disco characters. So yeah, let's have a bit of fun!


	5. Partying Hard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kim arrives at the concert and finally meets Harry again. There is tension. 
> 
> "The nostalgia paints a bittersweet image of times both more restrictive and more careless. A darkly colorful picture of sneaking out the orphanage and into the rowdy bars and clubs. Of tough conflicts and soft glances. Braking limits, things, rules and taboos. It’s not the time he would like relive but it’s still a thrill to revisit. It gives him chills that he can’t attribute to the cold."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got lost a bit in describing the concert grounds. I think I needed that. Hope it's not to much.  
> Also introducing slight conflict. Nothing too heart crashing. 
> 
> I'm kinda adding light angst but don't worry.  
> SPOILERS: with a happy ending

Kim tries not to project too much expectations towards the coming evening. He allows himself a meditative moment in his falling apart MC. One day he’ll be able to afford something good. Like the Kineema, perhaps. For now he has to be pleased with a motor carriage that is able to transport him from place to place. It will have to be enough… for now. He holds onto that thought as he passes Jamrock’s buildings and slowly appearing night lights. It’s getting dark early these days. The cool kids would come later but he’s not a kid anymore. He’s unbothered, almost ready to admit that he might be eager to be there earlier. Those expectation he was not having about the evening? They are suddenly present, pushing lightly on his chest, dancing around in his stomach.

He parks his Motor Carriage on a plaza, by some kind of hostel. As he leaves the old Coupris 30, the light in the Whirling-in-Rags cafeteria illuminates him and the passing people. The patrons are glancing suspiciously their way from over their beers and evening meals. He can feel a mischievous half-smile forming on his lips as he turns away to close the MC. It’s not like he doesn't understand the apprehension behind the glances but it feels freeing to be back on this side for a moment.

There is no misunderstanding where he should head to from here. He just has to follow the crowd and the noise, the faint idea of music. Cold late autumn air elopes him but he knows this is temporary Other bodies will soon offer their heat as he joins the rest As he passes through the water log that forms a little bridge he realizes that he is in a territory that is physically and mentally new to him. A huge bonfire, big enough to be visible from where he stands catches his attention. The closer he gets the more the coast looks like the footage from some alarmist news report about cults, music or one of any other 'dangerous activities' kids might get up to. Are your children home this late at night?' A concerned looking figure would ask the viewers. But there are no reporters feigning worry here. Just people screaming, laughing loudly and talking, and drinking. Among the adults, teenagers at an age that he was when he was into ‘the scene’. That he thinks of them as 'kids' now is a merciless reminder of the passage of time.

The nostalgia paints a bittersweet image of times both more restrictive and more careless. A darkly colorful picture of sneaking out the orphanage and into the rowdy bars and clubs. Of tough conflicts and soft glances. Braking limits, things, rules and taboos. It’s not the times he would like relive but it’s a thrill to revisit. It gives him chills that he can’t attribute to the cold.

He passes a few little shacks on the way. The noise here is noticeable enough to be bothering. Kim sincerely hopes that if there are people living there that they have been warned. The formerly abandoned coastline is lit up with a few little fires and one huge one in the proximity of the church. It leaves already darkening area bathed in warmth and orange light. It gives a deceptively serine look from afar, but forms something entirely more wild and primal as he gets closer.

The smoke mixes into the briny scent of Martinaise. People’s faces and exposed skin look red and the flames reflecting of them shine through the night. Just as his eyes adjust to the surreal landscape, a light flickers on and off a few times before illuminating the abandoned church.

The crowd cheers. He feels momentarily drowned in yells and whistles. He looks at the antique dolorian church and the silhouettes of pissed teenager in it's foreground. It feels equal parts breathtaking and sacrilegious. The church lacks most of two of it's walls, creating a partially covered stage, making it possible for all to see the performers. It’s hard to tell if it the damage was caused by elements or some act of vandalism, but it doesn't seem to be recent. Even here and now Kim catches himself not relaxing and giving in fully but analyzing his surroundings instead. He stops for a moment at the sight of stained glass Dolores Dei looking down at the party goers in her infinite beauty and patience. Through a brief flicker of light her expression transforms into annoyance. It passes before he can fully take it in. The place gets overwhelming quickly. The noise levels are already high. Music is blasting from the speakers. The amount of people gathered near make the open area slightly uncomfortably warm. Some punk kids are sharing beer with what seems some local drunks. An eagerly accepted peace offering as an apology for the whole bother.

Someone from the crowd calls out to Kim and approaches. It’s a familiar face. It’s the guy from the last concert. The savior who fed him the information about the band he was about to interview. Eugene smiles all friendly and happy. He’s accompanied by a tall blond man, both of them already more than a little drunk. “Hey! It’s the new fan, from last week!” He shouts his way, than he points to him with a beer he's been holding. “This is, um... Kim!” Next he points to an imposing figure by his side. “And my angry friend here is Glen.” The man doesn't show much interest. They nod curtly to each other before he continues to scan the area. “He doesn't know shit about music, he’s here more to start some shit... and to see his boyfriend.” That earns Eugene a sudden punch to the side.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Eugene laughs it off holding his side. The pain probably dulled by the alcohol cursing through his veins. The big guy huffs. “Look, it’s not… If you’re set on being an asshole, I’m going!”

As the blond guy turns to leave Eugene shouts “Kiss Titus from me!” Without turning back the figure presents him the middle finger. The accompanying ‘Fuck you!’ carries loud enough to be heard above the blaring crowd. They watch him until he disappears swallowed by the mass of people and Eugene laughs a bit again and focuses his attention back on Kim, who decides to come clean about his presence on the last concert. The man doesn't seem bothered by the revelation. “Hay, man, you’re here now, of your own choice. It’s always good to meet another music lover.”

Sometime in all the confusion a brown bottle of cheap beer finds a way into his hands and he opens it swiftly with a pen from his pocket, sending the cap flying up. Eugene nods appreciatively at the party trick and they slowly steer through the crowd towards the church sipping the terrible Potent Pilsner. Kim could still say he had worse but not by much. Somehow the taste pairs perfectly with that night. Some people already gather near the stage but most are scattered along the coast still. They have a good enough position to see the stage. Kim finds a bit of elevated ground in the uneven terrain to make sure of that. Two women are already mid their performance.

Recognizing that Kim must be unfamiliar with the new scene Eugene leans in to clue him in. He has to basically yell near his ear to be heard. “Inexplicable Agenda!”

“What?!” seems like the only possible reaction to that sudden cluster of words. He feels like he heard something wrong.

“It’s the band’s name. ‘Inexplicable Agenda’. That’s Ruby and Klaasje.

“Oh, Right. Thank you!”

“The opening duo is already better then the last time, huh?” He nods in response. It’s hard not to agree. The girls have energy and it would be an actual achievement to be worse then Torson and McLaine. They’re quite minimalist but the sound of the distorted guitar and abused drums sends pleasant tingles through his spine. A rare calm emerging from the chaos.

For a while they just stand there watching the show, sipping beer. Kim is looking around just a bit to check if any members of The Furies are maybe in the crowd He thinks he saw Lilienne and maybe the gremlin but no hint of Harry. He doesn't have much time to contemplate because at that moment the set ends and Eugene picks the conversation back up.

“So how are they?”

“Who?”

“The band! The Furies?! You got to talk to them, so how are they, as people? I figured if they where a bunch of assholes you wouldn’t be here right now.” Despite the laid back attitude he’s trying to project it’s clear who would prefer that the band he enjoys where not assholes.

Kim inspects the almost empty bottle in his hand with a controlled thoughtful expression. “They are colorful characters, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, so what does that mean? They're only ‘kind of’ assholes?”

Kim nods, “A normal, acceptable amount.”

“Heh, I can live with that.” He takes a swig of his beer. His sight runs around the church and it seems to linger at a point for a moment. “Don’t look now but I think one of them is coming our way.”

Kim is of a rare breed of man that doesn't immediately turn around to check. “Which one?” He simply asks, trying to ignore the way his heart rate speeds up. He doesn't have to wait long until he hears a familiar raspy baritone close behind him.

“Hey there, cool guy!” Kim turns around and can feel Harry's eyes sliding over his frame in a leisurely pace “You are...” He stops himself awkwardly, suddenly noticing someone unfamiliar right next to him. “...you are with a friend. Hey…"

“Eugene. A fan.” He extends his hand and shakes enthusiastically. He gestures between Kim and himself. “We actually just met.”

“Right… I have that beer I promised last time. You finished that one right?” Harry points to the empty bottle and says giddily. "No excuses this time!” He looks towards Eugene apologetically. I’m afraid I’ve only brought the one.”

Eugene waves his hand reassuringly. “It’s alright. I think I’ve had enough for now. I rarely drink anyway.”

Kim in turn inspects the bottle presented to him suspiciously The same Potent Pilsner he has been handed before. He looks at the empty one he has been holding. “Where are these coming from?” he asks looking back up.

Harry laughs wholeheartedly and the unabashed nature of it wakes a pleasant sensation in Kim's lungs. “They’re terrible, right? Siileng is selling them outside. He’s set up a bit further away just so they are cold.” As a proof he touches the bottle to the exposed bit of skin on Kim’s arm and is annoyingly satisfied at the reaction. Kim hisses through his teeth, retracts his arm and fails to suppress a slight shudder The shivers linger longer they it should.

Harry opens the Pilsner over a garishly colorful belt buckle. Making his exposed washboard abs catch Kim’s attention. Harry smiles knowingly as he hands him the bottle. The moment is so easy to sink into they have to remind themselves that they are surrounded by people.

After a brief friendly conversation Eugene excuses himself claiming that he sees his friends. If it is an honest reason or a tactful retreat, Kim doesn't bother to care because as soon as the other man is out o the picture Harry gives him a look.

“Hey there...”

Kim crosses his arms and tilts his head. “You said that already.”

“Yeah. I guess I did... Well, it’s not my fault. You’re distracting.”

“Am I now?” He asks feeling a bit cocky.

“Oh, you know you are...” His eyes flicker toward Kim’s lips and linger there a moment before he looks him in the eye. Tension grows between them. The memory of how they said their farewells last time comes back as heat just under the skin. and Kim has a strong, unwelcome urge to get out of there and... talk somewhere more private.

As if reading it of him, Harry sighs heavily and answers the unasked question. “We are playing in a moment… I reaaally should be getting ready… Walk and talk?” Kim nods and Harry gestures for him to follow. Not looking quite at him he asks. “You’re not leaving right after the show today right? I really wanted to talk. You’ll be here after we finish, right?”

Kim can not help but to equate this tall imposing guy to a puppy and it makes him chuckle. “Oh, don’t worry. I'll be here.” He takes special care finding the right wording and modulating his voice. “I have nowhere else to be. No... other plans for tonight.”

“Good.” Harry turns around as they stop by the stage and Kim is glad that he looks adequately affected. Before he gets to say or do anything more nervous looking Jean approaches them.

“Good. You’re back.” He says courtly, almost officially and looks around. Something seems seriously off and Harry seems to feel it too because he furrows his brows and his whole demeanor drastically changes.

“Jean. What’s going on?”  
  
The Grumpy manager turns his head towards Kim looks at him a moment analyzing then decides that getting rid of him is not the most important thing right now. He looks back at Harry and braces himself before delivering the news.

“It’s...” He takes a breath, exhales and speaks quickly, as if ripping of a band aid. “It’s Dora. She's here. Her band claims that they are playing here tonight. Apparently everyone else knew.”

The usually fast talking manager gives Harry a moment to stare blankly at him. He finally manages to verbalize a thought. “That’s... new. Shit.”

The atmosphere that was between them seems sucked out an replaced with a different, heavier kind of tension and Kim can sense another revelation coming along as Jean seems to be still mulling something over with a pained expression

“She… Wants to talk with you. She’s waiting in the back. Says it’s important.”

“Well...” Harry covers his face with his hand and slowly runs it up and through his hair. He looks up to Dolores Dei, towering over them all looking down mournfully. “…Shit”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cliffhanger?
> 
> In my fanfiction? 
> 
> It's more likely than you think...
> 
> (I'm so sorry. I'll try to work fast on the next one)


	6. Hardly Partying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some drama, some fun, a little bit of something more heartfelt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m really sorry I haven’t updated in moths. Got a bad block but it's going much better now. I’ll try harder to finish it now.

When he followed Harry on a promise of… he’s not even sure what exactly. He didn’t expect to find himself in an eye of a tornado. As he looks around a makeshift backstage area a drama plays out around him.

The band is for some reason fine with him being there or maybe they are just too preoccupied to bother with him. This shouldn’t be of any concern to him. His professional curiosity is what keeps him there. Or so he tells himself. They all keep glancing to the side where the object of Kim’s not-so-professional interests talks to a stuning woman. They’re far enough that he cannot make out their expression. Kim curses his bad eyesight silently.

There is one thing that sadly doesn't escape his notice. She is a striking figure. Fierce and beautiful. Bright long hair serve as a background to a shapely figure hugged tight by a black dress. Petty jealousy nibbles at his insides. He actively reminds himself that he doesn't know Harry all that well. He has no legitimate claim over the man. He shouldn’t harbor such feelings towards the woman he doesn't know. He suddenly feels foolish for how much of himself he has already invested. Serves him right, he supposes, for throwing caution to the wind. Working without a plan was never his forte.

“For fuck’s sake! Goddammit! Shit!” Jean speaks freely the words Kim is holding back. It’s a bit of a relief to at least hear the. Band’s manager paces back and forth. The thin veneer of restraint giving way. “If she fucks up what we have going here… Shit-Fuck-Dammit!” He takes what was probably suppose to be a calming breath but as he exhales his fury just comes back stronger. “The organizers fucking knew! Other bands fucking knew! We apparently where the only ones left in the fucking dark!”

Martin leans on some boxes with forced nonchalance, holding a cigarette a bit too tensely, smoking a tad more desperately than usually. He throws away the butt and asks with feign indifference. “So it’s set? they're playing tonight? Nothing left to do?”

“Not if we don’t want to make people angry.” Lilienne answers lifting her eyes from the guitar she was tuning. “Let’s just... get this over with.”

Suddenly Harry turns away from Dora and he quickly goes their way.

He passes by them and stands by a makeshift table made of wooden pallets. He grabs one of the bottles standing on it. Some kind of brown spirit. Whiskey if Kim would hazard a guess. Harry has his back to the rest of them as he unscrews it swiftly and chugs for a good while. The bright ‘Fuck the World’ gleams prominently illuminated by stage light. The rest of the band and Kim gather behind him in irregular half-circle. He finally settles the bottle back down.

Lilienne is first to speak up “Well? Don’t keep us waiting. What did she want?”

Harry exhales slowly, trying to hide the way his breath shakes. “She wants back.” He finally answers still not turning towards them.

Smoker hesitates for a moment. He folds his hands on his chest and asks: “Go back to the band or… to you?”

Harry slowly moves to face them the bottle finds it’s way to his lips again and stays there for another moment. Against any logic the loud venue feels uncomfortably silent. He finally stops drinking.

“Yes…” He slowly wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his leather jacket. “Yes on both.”

Kim suddenly feels his blood freeze. He know he shouldn’t. It’s not fair to any of them but his body reacts like that not asking if it that’s correct.

Cuno who have been bouncing up and down excitedly shouts out. The sound of his voice pierces Kim’s eardrums. “Don’t just stand there daft-like! What did ya tell her?!”

“Fuck off!” Harry answers dispassionately.

Lilienne steps in. “For fuck sake, Harry I know you’re angry but there's no reason to take it out on-”

“No.” Harry stops her, shaking his head. He rasps eerily monotone... “I told her that.” His eyes go a bit wider as if it was also a revelation to him. He looks up. “I told her to fuck off.” There is an attempt of a smile but it gets lost along the way.

“Fucking A, man!” Cuno jump toward Him his hand risen in a gesture waiting for an Ace’s High. Harry returns it, weakly slapping the presented palm.

“Good.” Jean smiles a bit bitterly. He pats Harry encouragingly on the shoulder. The smile disappears in a flash replaced by something more stern. “Now, bottles down, instruments up! You have a show to play.”

Harry let’s go of the whiskey and dutifully straps on his Bass on. He slaps it a few times and finally looks Kim’s way. He meets his eyes just for a brief moment before he starts fiddling with the tuning keys. “I’m sorry. This was supposed to be fun. You shouldn’t have seen that.”

Kim suddenly feels like an intruder, an uncomfortable witness to something that was never meant for him. “I’m sorry, you’re right.” _This isn’t any of my buisness_ “I probably should have just left…”

“It’s fine. It’s OK.” Harry's voice is defeated.  
  
It’s hard to say if the smoker tries to add to the tension or alleviate it. Ether way he leans in conspiratorially and addresses the band. “You do realize that we have two songs that are about her on the set list for tonight, right?”

“Three.” Harry corrects him automatically.

Jean furrows his brows. “So what do you think? Should we just drop them?”

Martin protests. “Oh no, no, no. They force themselves onto the stage, they play by our rules. I dare say this is what will make the show a little bit more... special.” He says gesturing theatrically as if he was throwing confetti into the air.

They all look at Harry.

He lifts his eyes to look at them and produces a rigid grin. “Fuck it. Let’s do this!”

As the rest of them take their place on stage Harry looks back one last time before he follows.  
  
“See you later?” Kim asks hesitantly.  
  
“Yeah.” He sounds downright mournful. “Take care, cool guy.” He drags the whiskey with him.

The bottle finds a place as a fixture on a loudspeaker. Every brake Harry gets he revisits it for a moment. He plays well enough, a practiced routine. It’s a pity to see the magical charisma drained by stress and alcohol. He seems more like a skilled craftsman than the creature of instinct he was last week. He is wholly focused on playing and doesn't spare the audience even a cursory glance. Kim still can’t keep his eyes of him, now with more concern then the pure admiration from the last time. The rest of the Furies pick up the slack. They seem determined not to be upstaged by the follow-up act. Martin takes the most of the burden on himself, flirting relentlessly with the audience.  
  
The set is similar to the last one. The songs that Kim now realizes where about Dora hit a bit differently, though. How much can a little bit of context change. Even with this knowledge he find it easy to get lost in the newly unearth feeling of exhilaration. In that moment it feels stupid that he absolutely refused it to himself till lately. Despite the whole affair being in the open air the place is crowded enough to feel stuffy in the middle of the crowd. Other peoples’ bodies provide more then enough heat as they jump and writhe around. A familiar warmth of strangers surrounds him. His chest seems to vibrate in tandem with the sound of the bassline.

It ends all to quickly. One punchy number for en encore and it’s suddenly over. Going by the people’s reaction the show still is a roaring success. Soon some of the crowd disperse, most still scream, whistle clap and chant demanding another song. It all seems truly over as the band starts unplugs their equipment. Kim seriously weighs his options. He could run. Just say goodbye and disappear. Maybe even go home now, right away. No one would blame him in this bizarre situation. Well, that’s not exactly true. He would blame himself.

As he’s teetering at the edge of that decision the lights go fully dark and it turns out that it’s not fully over. Lilienne have just put a microphone to an acoustic guitar she grabbed when he wasn’t paying attention and as soon as she strums it the crowd cheers so loud they nearly drown her out but soon they settle down a bit and a simple yet haunting melody fills the venue. The rest of band barely visible in the cover of the dark go back and forth, cleaning up the stage. Clever way to get rid of the excessive downtime between the sets.  
  
The sweet and calm melody goes on for a little while when it suddenly grows. It’s Martin who joins her with a guitar of his own. It creates a curios harmony. Well, those guys are not afraid to branch out with their styles. Kim has already written as much in his article. _A mix of genres-_ Kim doesn't to finish recalling that line because here comes Harry. Or rather his voice booming form the darkness.  
  
  
 _Fe_ _e_ _l free to look at me and judge my life_

_I lived on the edge, dancing on the knife  
  
And Dolores knows, I’ve had a good time _

_Falling deep down and rolling in the grime  
  
_ _Dragged_ _h_ _er_ _down_ _here_ _while_ _trying to reach her._

_I don’t want to be that kind of creature._

  
  
It’s rough. It’s painful. Heartfelt. Downright tragic. Kim can’t tear his eyes from the darkened stage despite not seeing much. Just an idea of a familiar silhouette that is grabbing the microphone stand as if holding for dear life. He's only illuminated by the faint moonlight falling through the stained glass. The innocence looks down at him with unreadable expression. 

_Angry like a blinded boar  
Waking up, down on the floor  
I have done it all before  
I don’t want to be that kind of animal... anymore_.

Kim puts his hands behind his back as if someone could see the goosebumps on his forearms. He doesn't move or even think much, letting himself be swept entirely by the sensation of sound traveling through his bones.  
  


 _I believed that it was war  
Y_e _t I kept coming for more_ _  
Now it’s time to shut that door  
I don’t want to be that kind of animal... anymo_r _e_

The music stops. People around are chanting “Furies! Furies!” And the world is coming back int the view. As soon as he doesn't feel bolted to the floor anymore his legs carry him back to meet Harry again.

Titus, the burly man who is again guarding the backstage is casually engaged in a talk with two blonds. The easily angered Eugene's friend from earlier and a nonchalantly smoking woman from the band that was playing before. He’s still vigilant enough to notice Kim approach. The bouncer recognizes him and gestures to pass.

Harry emerges from the stage, staggering a bit. Light from behind him frames the broad figure as he runs his hand through the disheveled mane of hair.

Kim takes a deep breath and feels his usually tightly held caution slip away. It soon is floating in the wind, getting further away as the bassist moves closer.

Harry finally notices him and looks at him with a genuine shock on his reddish face. He smiles hesitantly then takes a second look as if to make sure that he’s not hallucinating and his smiles widens to unrealistic extend. “Heeeeeeey...” He looks down realizing he’s still holding his bass. He passes it carelessly to the nearest person not even looking their way. It almost falls down but Cuno manages to catch it.

Harry doesn't seem to hear the squeaky “Watch it, man!” He takes a step towards, tripping over a bunch of cables and almost falling to his face. He looks down and points to them with a finger, as if scolding them. _This is a mistake,_ _t_ _his is a mistake, this is_ … Harry turns back towards him and looks like a dog that was left home alone for too long.

“Kim! You came back!”

“I told you I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah but people say many things.” He weighs his words. They seem to come heavy as lead. The man is incorrigibly drunk. “They don’t always mean them.”

“Well, I try not to be that kind of people.”

Harry looks at him, sudden regret as clear on his face as if it was written. He whines. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He points to the empty bottle. “I thought you wouldn’t be here. Like there's no way the cool guy will think I’m worth the...” Lacking words he gestures around

The other Furies’ members get of the stage as well. Martin slowly shakes his head and smiles. “Well that’s a surprise.” He mutters under his breath.

Kim in his mind assures him he is at least as astonished by his own behavior. Nevertheless he stands his ground, ready to back up this decision, hoping that it won’t turn out too reckless. The band start to pack up apparently agreeing that Harry is not going to be much help in this current state.

Before Kim has any time to think about his next step the other group, Death Control Fantasy, passes them by. Dora stops and when the rest of the band looks her way she gestures them to move on. They do so after a moment’s hesitation. She turns to Harry, ready to say something. He refuses to meet her gaze for a moment so she turns her judging stare to Kim. In some bizarre instinct he gets closer to Harry, pushes his chest forward and clasps his hands behind his back. He tries not to linger on the realization that he just adopted a stance he would himself call... protective.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Her voice is surprisingly soft and sweet for someone who obviously tries to intimidate him.

“My name is Kim Kitsuragi. I’m with the Jamrock Shuffle Gazette.” He finds his voice losing some of the professional tone as he continues. “I’m also an acquaintance of the band.”

She produces a dismissive scoff. “Oh, you’re from that rag.” She shifts her attention back to Harry “Baby. That wasn’t that bad of a show.” She puts a dainty hand on his arm. “ But we both know we’re best together. Maybe we should pretend the last conversation never happened... Let’s give it another chance.” Her long red nails dig into the leather. It creaks under the touch.  
  
Harry finally looks up. He’s wobbly on his legs, unsteady, the drink making him vulnerable but he finally faces her. “Dora...” He reaches for her hand and for a second Kim feel a sudden pang of pain somewhere in his lungs. It is as unexpected as it is short. Harry gently prays her hand from his sleeve and pushes it away.

“Why?” He mutters. “Why now? Now that I…” It’s clear the speech causes him pain. He steels himself and continues. “Give it a rest. It wasn’t working out, okay?” It’s easy to guess that the statement touches both their professional and personal affairs.

“You can’t possibly mean that, Harry.” Her voice turns just incrementally more impatient.  
  
“I’m sorry.” Harry nervously clutches the point on his arm she touched moments ago, swaying slightly. “Things change”. He looks sheepishly to the floor. “Please... I can’t. Already told you what I think. Just leave.”  
  
“Yes. Go.” The cavalry suddenly arrives in form of a cocky, slender guitarist. He materializes by Harry’s other side. “We wouldn’t want to have to explain your prolonged conversations with us to the rest of your new group, would we?” He puts a stabilizing hand oh Harry’s back. “Do they know you’re job-hunting?”

She turns to towards the singer. “Martin.” She acknowledges him coldly. “Afraid of losing yours? What do you think they’d do? Get rid of me? Besides, I don’t think they would believe a word out of your mouth.”

“They might be more inclined to believe a written word, then.” Kim tries to look cold and professional so he has to fight a little smirk forming at the side of his mouth. “After all the ‘rag’ I work for has a fairly popular gossip column.” He gives Harry a quick glance just to learn that he is staring at him now. Surprise slowly changing into something softer.  
  
Dora addresses Harry next. “You keep weird company.” He just shrugs not even turning to her.

Martin takes over. “I don’t know if you noticed, my dear but our Harry is not exactly a paragon of normality either. Don’t you worry your pretty little head. He’s fine where he is.”  
  
Only now Kim notices the rest of the band is quietly watching the whole situation, ready to intervene if anything got out of hand. Cuno is not being very subtle about it. Neither is Jean who looks daggers their way.

She looks around and finally relents. “Fine, whatever. Fuck you too, I guess.” She turns and storms out.

The moment she disappears out of their sight Kim feels something on his back and a force moves him from his place. He suddenly find him self shoulder to shoulder with Martin. Both of them trapped in a tight bear hug. He can hear a muffled “Thank you, guys” from above him.

“Settle down, big boy.” Martin wiggles himself from Harry’s affectionate vice gracefully like a cat. somehow managing to get Kim out too. Lilienne looks them and sighs emphatically “OK. I’ll see you’ll be useless today. Take the rest of the night off. Just don’t even think to grumble when you’re carrying everyone's stuff next time.” Martin turns to leave but stops and turns back to them. “Oh and try not to fuck it up, Harry. I think I like this one.”

They both stand there for a moment, quiet, lost in the surreal moment. Harry brakes the silence first. “I think Martin likes you…”

Kim can feel himself shake as he instinctively holds in a laugh. “Yes. I believe that’s what he said. I feel like I just passed some kind of a test. They're protective of you.” _It seems nice._  
  
“Yeah, sort of. We might be giving each other a hard time but it’s like… Most of us, like don’t really have much in a way of family so we... it’s just...” Harry trails off and turns away, embarrassed “Ugh… I sound so fucking lame.”

“No. You don’t.” Kim says firmly and puts a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I think I understand.”  
  
Harry looks at the hand on his shoulder and he blinks at it a few times. Kim is not sure what it means so he removes it but now Harry frowns at the empty place. A sound of guitars takes it from his daze as Dora’s band warms up. He grimaces “I don’t really want to see them play.” He says mindlessly into the ether but his next words are clearly directed at Kim. “Would you... You feel like taking a walk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are so young and stupid. Harry not tainted by the terrible job. I have fun writing him drunk and stupid without the dark implications.
> 
> I’m kind of sorry for making Dora this one-sided villain this is not exactly what I think about her but, oh well… it’s my party! But I do hope you’re having a good time!
> 
> Just some behind the scene notes: 
> 
> Harry has gained the thought “Not that Kind of Animal” when wrote the song. He completed it after performing and now he has -1 Electrochemistry and + 1 Volition from it.  
> (Maybe most of the thoughts now have a form of song lyrics?)
> 
> Harry’s build has high Conceptualization and Drama but also Hand-Eye, coordination, Savoir Faire and Interfacing. 
> 
> Also Harry’s 'Esprit de Corps' is replaced by 'The Scene'
> 
> I had a fragment of Kim's article but I lost it but the line went something like this: 
> 
> 'The mix of genres so varied that they fill the definition of punk by the sheer lack of conformity. It’s the authenticity present both in the performance and in the bold lyrics that manages to grasp the minds of their equally eclectic audience.'

**Author's Note:**

> This. Was. Suppose. To. Be. A One-shot.  
> I just kept writing and writing, not even sure anybody would like it. The idea was born from a conversation with my friend. I was suppose to write a silly little thing, but the characters demand to exist further and I have fun writing it.  
> Changed the ages and timelines. I tried to write the characters as same people, but younger and in different life circumstances.  
> I love this more confident version of Harry. Kim works well as a determined Journalist in a situation similar to when he was a juvie cop.  
> Kim is about 26


End file.
